


Of Course This Is Happening Inside Your Head

by PieOfEpicness



Category: House of Cards (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Ghosts, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Multi, also none of this makes sense in the HoC universe but whatevs, look both of these could have done with further drafts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-11 08:49:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11145021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PieOfEpicness/pseuds/PieOfEpicness
Summary: But why on earth should that mean that it is not real?--Frank and Edward get their goodbye.UPDATED: Now with a chapter for Claire and Tom, because damnit, they were good together.





	1. Chapter 1

“I’m hallucinating,” Frank says. He’s not even sure if the words have left his mouth. “That’s what the doctors say has been happening, what with losing my liver and all.”

“You are,” Edward says, looking down. 

He’s sitting on the bed, appearing without a sound, was just there when Frank opened his eyes. It’s surprises him, how he can feel the weight. He can see the growing stain of red from underneath the dark jacket, but it doesn’t seem to bother Edward.

“I know,” Frank continues, “because you’re dead.”

Edward takes a deep breath, finally saying, “I am.” He places a hand over his wound, and brings it away, looking at the red on his hand calmly, his eyebrows furrowed. “It was so quick…”

“You’re not really here,” Frank says adamantly, closing his eyes. But Edward is still there when he opens his eyes, though, and so he resigns to himself to the hallucination.

“I think I am, though. I didn’t get to say anything before I…” Edward stops, not wanting to finish the sentence. 

“If you want to say something, say it.” Frank feels impatient, an ache growing in his muscles from the spasms he’s holding back. “I’m not one to believe in ghosts.”

Edward looks at him, and gently, tenderly, holds his President’s hand. It feels so real, Frank thinks, the touch, the feel of Edward’s skin. He presses his bloodied palm to Frank’s clean one.

Edward smiles, his expression different from his usual stoic one. He looks unsure, undecided on what he should say. Eventually, though, he says: “It was an honour, Frank. My service to you, and what I did. Though, I must admit that I hoped that it wouldn’t happen.” His smile begins to falter, just a bit, and Frank can see his eyes shining.

“I’m sorry,” Frank tells him. “You shouldn’t have died. Everyone swarmed around me but they left you behind.”

With his clean hand, Edward wipes away Frank’s tears. “It’s okay, sir,” he says. “I’m okay. I just… wanted to see you one last time before I left.” He brings Frank’s hand to his lips, kissing it.

“Where are you going?” Frank asks, quietly.

“Some place… different.”

“Not better?”

“I don’t know. But certainly different.” He’s quiet for a while, and they just look at each other for a while. “I know I didn’t have any right to, sir, but I really came to love you. You and Claire.”

“I think I loved you, too,” Frank whispers. He’s almost scared of the words, but he smiles as he says them. “That night we had together – it was pretty fun, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it was,” Edward smirks.

“Kiss me?” Frank asks. It’s an impulsive thought, and though he still can’t decide if Edward is really there or not, he doesn’t want this moment to end with just words. Edward leans down, and it feels real when their lips touch. They break apart after a few moments, but he stays close, Edward stroking his thumb across Frank’s cheek.

Hallucination or not, he decides, how he feels makes this quite real.

“You’re going to be okay,” Edward says, before getting up. “I… I can feel myself going.” The expression on his face shows his confusion at the feeling. “We’ll see each other again, Frank. One day.”

“Goodbye.”

Frank’s not sure what happens next. His eyes lose focus as a soft, bright light envelops Edward, the features on his face quickly fade, his body becoming a dark silhouette of itself, and by the time he can focus again, Edward’s gone. He feels the loss, deep in his soul.

The feeling of blood on his hand never quite leaves until his last day in the Office.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little plot bunny hopped right in and started bouncing around until I wrote it down. I didn't think I'd come back to it, but here it is.

Tom is angry when he’s realised what’s happened. Claire is crying above him as his throat closes, as his breath finally stops. He’s scared at first, absolutely fucking terrified at the act of dying, but then it’s over, and he’s angry.

He can feel her regret as she watches her lean down to kiss his cheek, and to close his eyes. But she doesn’t say anything, there’s no “I’m sorry”, no words of parting. She’s silent as she dresses, forces herself to stop crying as she retrieves her clothes, and it’s when she doesn’t look back that he gets angry.

He screams, he shouts out the window to Claire as she leaves, but she doesn’t hear him. He throws things, kicks things, breaks everything he can. His anger consumes him, doesn’t stop until he finally comes to his senses.

He hangs around for a little while, unsure of what to do next. Then he senses someone’s entered the room, and he looks up to see Edward Meechum standing in the corner, looking down at Tom’s body. He recognises the clothes he’s in, the black coat, the white shirt with the red blood stain. Tom looks down at himself, and just like the body on the floor, he’s as naked as the day he was born.

Death, he realises, gives you a wonderful sense of clarity. He doesn’t feel any sense of shame at his nakedness, though he does feel some second-hand embarrassment for his physical body.

“Why are you the first person I see in the afterlife?” Tom’s confused as to why it’s Meechum that’s appeared. “We weren’t exactly friends when we were alive.”

“We were both under the influence of the Underwood’s,” Meechum says.

“The influence? You make it sound as if it weren’t our conscious decisions to get involved with them.”

Meechum gives a small smile. “However our relationships with them came to be, I felt it was my obligation to be the first one you saw.”

“Just because we both loved them doesn’t give us any connection,” he doesn’t say it with malice.

The door opens, Mark stepping through, looking very disappointed at the scene before him. Tom gets up from where he sat, feeling compelled to go through the now open door. Meechum follows him from the house silently, until they stop at the front door.

“When I go through there… it’s not going to be the same place, is it?”

Edward stands beside Tom, and shakes his head.

Tom doesn’t ask any more questions.

*~.~*

Many years later, though the passage of time feels quite different for him now, Tom comes back to see Claire. She looks quite different now, sickness and age catching up with her. She’s minutes away from death, now, and so he’s come to help her along.

“Tom,” she says, once she’s recognised who she’s looking at. The nurse beside her looks up, but he doesn’t see anything. He watches as she extends her hand out to empty space, her hand closing around thin air. The nurse leaves her be.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice faint. Even though Tom no longer needs the apology, it’s necessary for her to say it to herself. “I thought I had to do it…”

“It’s okay,” Tom tells her. Her hand feels different now, he notices. He sits down on the bed, and stays with her. They don’t say another word, just listen to the sound of her breathing, until she doesn’t anymore. Her hand falls to the bed as she slips away, but at the same time her grip tightens. 

With her newfound strength, she pulls herself up into a seating position. She puts a hand to her head, feeling a little dizzy at her new state. She turns around slowly, and looks down at herself – she promptly leans over the side of the bed and dry retches.

“Was it like this for you?”

Tom shakes his head as he gets down, kneeling in front of her. “Quite different. I died with my dick still hard.”

Claire begins to laugh, but it turns into a coughing fit. The humour goes away quickly goes away, though, as she remembers. “I killed you. I’m so sorry. At the time, I thought it was an important thing to do. I regretted it for the rest…” She stops herself. “Am I going to hell?”

Tom sees the fear in her eyes at the thought. “We’re not going to hell,” he assures her, his hands on both cheeks. “It’s not quite heaven, where we’re going, either.”

“Then where?”

“It’s some place different,” and that’s all that he says about it.

Claire gets up slowly, still getting used to the feeling of being something else, and looks in a mirror that she hasn’t been able for a while. “Don’t tell me I’m going to look eighty-three forever.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Tom says, taking hold of her hand again. He guides her to the door that the nurse opens when he comes back in.

Claire pauses in her path. “Were you scared?” She asks.

“Terrified.”

“I’m sorry,” she says again

“It’s okay- “

“But I wasn’t. I marched on, but I was never okay again.”

“I forgive you. I forgave you many years ago.” He leans across, giving her a soft kiss on the side of her head. 

She sighs, leaning into the touch. “Let’s go,” she says, and she leads the way through the door.

**Author's Note:**

> I may have been binge watching House of Cards. I just wanted to write this little thing, so thank you for reading :)


End file.
